


hearts in amber

by Anonymous



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Angst, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, will finish very much 'eventually'
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 03:54:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8086093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: "I’m not your girlfriend, okay," Rey said. "We’re not dating. I’m a stripper. Get real."





	

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I am finally writing for this pairing. Achievement unlocked!

“This is going to get you murdered,”  Jess said, not for the first time. She huffed and glared, her ponytail bouncing with every step. “The police are going to find you bleeding out in an alley, and guess who they’re gonna call in to identify your body? Me.”

“You’re being melodramatic,” Rey said. They’d had this exchange about a dozen times before, it felt like. “And unnecessary. You’re the one who told me it’s perfectly safe.”

“That was before,” Jess shot back. “You know. When it was all theoretical.”

“Mhh.” Rey said. “Sure. You’re just mad I won’t be home when you get back and you’re going to have to cook your own damn dinner from now on.”

“What _ever_ , Rey.”

Rey laughed as they walked, boots stomping against the sidewalk. It was cold, even through all her layers and her gloves, and she was sure her face must be red and blotched by now. Not an attractive first impression at all.

“Here we are,” Jess announced, all giggles and mock-solemnity, as they finally came to a halt in front of a non-descript fire door. It was large and sturdy, the black paint still new, and looked just like the back door of any other club in Ileenium City, just like a dozen other places Rey had worked at.

This one, though, this one was different. The front entrance opened on one of the busiest streets of the city, and the neon signs towering above it sparkled red and gold and purple all night long. It said _The Palace_ in big, bold capital letters; and under it: _Ileenium’s Premiere Entertainment Club_. You couldn’t tell that from the back entrance, though, and Rey was glad. _Just another first day at the new job_ , she thought, and knocked. Hard.

It made more noise than she’d expected it would, almost enough to justify the dull pain in Rey’s knuckles. She heard a crackling of static from the wall next to her – an intercom, she realized, painted over a rusty red to blend against the brick wall – and then a woman’s voice, distorted. “Coming.”

Rey turned to Jessika, wetting her lips with her tongue before speaking. “You can leave now,” she said, with a voice that was cracking a bit too much to belong to her. “I know the way back, I’ll be fine.”

Jess stared back, but didn’t move quickly enough.

“I said I’ll be _fine_ ,” Rey urged, her eyes darting sideways to the black door, still shut in front of them. The last thing she needed was for the owner of that voice to open the door and see the both of them standing there, Jess at Rey’s side like some sort of – protective big sister. Or something.

“I mean it, I don’t need a baby sitter.” She wanted to be taken seriously – she _needed_ to be taken seriously, she needed this job, and warmer clothes and better food and everything that went with it. This time Jess seemed to understand the nervousness in Rey’s word, because she shrugged theatrically before nodding, smiling and exasperated little smile.

“I’ll see you later,” Jess agreed. “Don’t get murdered.”

And then she winked and left, just as the black door finally slid open, and Rey found herself staring at the most stunning woman she’d ever met – tall and blonde and imposing, absolutely flawless. She met Rey’s eyes with an unimpressed gaze.

“Next time,” the woman said. “You can just ring the bell.”

“Uh,” Rey said, sounding stupid even to her own ears. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know there was a bell?”

“Under the intercom,” the woman said, taking a step back and gesturing for Rey to walk in. She was wearing very tight jeans, soft-looking and washed out, and sturdy heeled boots. “It’s painted over but it’s there. All of our dancers use the back door.”

“Alright,” Rey said, nodding. “I’ll remember that. Thank y–”

And then she stepped through the door and blinked, confronted with the sight of Ileenium City’s most infamous strip club.

The back entrance opened on a very small corridor, all done in black with the floor carpeted a scarlet red. On her left there was a white door, so surprisingly bland in a place like this, and on her right the hallway went on, the passage obscured by long red drapes hanging down to brush the floor.

Right in front of her she could see what looked like the main floor, the drapes pulled back to show a hardwood floor and a long bar counter that wouldn’t have looked out of place at the pub she’d gone to just last week to celebrate the end of her finals. The runway stage, though, was something she’d never seen before except on television. As she walked in further she took notices of the other two stages, smaller and circular, enclosed by railings, on two opposite corners of the room. And on stages, naturally, the thin poles.

 _Just like at the gym_ , Rey told herself. Nothing unusual to see here – just a job.

Just a job.

“Anyway, you must be Rey,” the woman spoke up again, shocking Rey out of her reverie. “Jessika’s friend?”  She held out her hand to shake.  “I’m Phasma.”

“That’s not your real name,” Rey blurted out, before she’d even realized her mouth was moving. Phasma raised a perfectly sculptured eyebrow.

“I mean,” Rey tried to amend. “I’m sorry?”

“You have excellent deduction skills, Rey,” was all Phasma said. Her hand was warm and dry, her grip surprisingly gentle. “So, as I was saying – my name’s Phasma, and I’m the club manager. During your time here, you will be under my supervision. Now –”

“Wait,” Rey said. “Are you saying I’m hired? Just like that?”

Phasma again raised a pale, imperious eyebrow. She looked like a statue, so painfully perfect to be almost unnerving, and her lips curled as she spoke.

“Not yet,” she said. “But I doubt you can fuck it up too bad. As long as you can dance….” and here she trailed off, looking at Rey pointedly.

“I used to teach dance classes,” Rey said, defensively. She knew Phasma knew that; Jess had vouched for her – hopefully not going into all the details about Rey’s occasional bout clumsiness. There was going to be a learning curve, at some point.

“I’m going to audition you later,” Phasma said. “Before you sign, but hopefully it’ll be just a formality.  House rules first. I won’t have you anywhere close to one of the stages for the next couple weeks, anyway, so you can familiarize yourself with everything.”

“Right,” Rey said, hoping Phasma would change her mind on that. Stage meant better tips, of course – she would have guessed that even if Jess hadn’t made it clear. “So… what kind of rules?”

“First, this is camera-free establishment,” Phasma said, promptly. “Unless they’re near the bar. You see someone taking out their phone when they shouldn’t, call security.”

She kept walking as she spoke, gesturing to Rey as she went. “Bar, obviously. Pay’s five a hour when you’re working here, plus tips. If you want to perform on stage, rent’s fifty to one-thirty, depending on the day of the week. We have a strict no touching policy in this room,” she added, turning to look straight into Rey’s eyes. “No touching the performers, hands off during private dances, all of that. It almost never happens, but if it does, tell the customer off and try not to cause a scene. If it happens again, call security.”

Rey nodded. _Reasonable_ , she thought.

“What about…” she cleared her throat. “What about, uh, private rooms?”

The look Phasma shot her was clearly amused at her hesitance and, for the first time, the woman smiled. “We have a champagne lounge and private rooms – the rules are different and you can opt out of that if you want, but you have to let me know that before I make the shifts rooster at the beginning of the month. And we have cameras in all the rooms, of course, so don’t worry about that.”

And then Phasma led her upstairs, to a plush room that looked like it should belong in a retro movie, and back down to the dressing rooms, where she could finally leave her coat and get changed. She was shown the way to the showers and the fire exits and all of the toilets, with a brief detour back to the main floor for what felt like an endless audition that left Rey sweaty and wobbly on her legs, thigh muscles screaming. And after that it wasn’t long at all before she ended up in Phasma’s small office, sitting on the other side of a surprisingly sober brown desk and looking through a five-page contract.

Rey signed it, of course. She’d known all along she would. She traced the letters of her name in stark black ink, just a bit smudged as she brushed the paper with the heel of her palm, and watched Phasma grip the pen as she wrote her name – her real name – and the day’s date right above it.

“There,” she said. “All done and legal.”

Then she shifted around in her chair, eyeing Rey with her arms crossed over her chest.

“I’ll put you on shift starting tomorrow. You can leave now, if you want, and come back tomorrow afternoon, or you can stay and have a look around tonight, get a feel for the job.”

“Stay,” Rey said, almost before she’d finished speaking. “I’ll stay.”

“Good,” Phasma agreed. “Go back to the dressing room, see if you can find the way, Bazine should be there by now.” She caught Rey’s gaze, and snorted, eyes rolling. “I’ll be on my coffee break.”

Rey grabbed the freshly signed copy of her new contract and her pen and her ID, putting everything inside her bag; then she straightened herself up and walked out of the office, feeling lighter with every step. She’d done it, finally. She had the job, and life already seemed much simpler than it had just that morning. She had the job – a well-paying job, but just a regular job nevertheless. She wasn’t going to get overwhelmed by any of this, Rey promised herself. She wouldn’t.

Three days later, Rey met Kylo Ren.

**Author's Note:**

> In case anyone was wondering - the strip club is, of course, owned by Hux. I went through a series of awful Order-related names for the club, all of them equally bad, but I couldn't find one that was punny enough. 
> 
> I'm on tumblr @[jonstarks](http://jonstarks.tumblr.com/), come talk to be about bad naming choices and OTP feels.


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